


Such a Simple Thing

by ninathena



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Polyamory, Scissoring, Spanking, Sub!Echo, Threesome - F/F/M, and a shocked!Clarke, dom!bellamy, growing back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-24 04:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninathena/pseuds/ninathena
Summary: While Clarke and Echo find some common ground (and mutual attraction), Clarke and Bellamy might need a little push, thankfully Echo's there to try and make it all work.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know this goes without saying but, if you dislike Becho, you'll probably dislike this fic. (Don't Like Don't Read.) For those of you here for the smut, that is, unfortunately, next chapter.  
> Other than that, enjoy, lovelies.

Clarke is careful as she peels back the bandage, aware of its sticking to the clammy skin around the wound. Once removed, her thumb traces lightly down the stitched, raised flesh, examining her work.

Echo's skin isn't feverishly heated, but is still warm to the touch, which is understandable given the stifling heat within the tent. It's not helped by an agitated Bellamy standing over them. His anxiety is palatable, his restlessness practically spilling out with every agitated breath he releases. Even though he stands behind her, Clarke can _feel_ his frantic eyes on her every move. She does her best to ignore him, though by Echo's amused look, she seems to enjoy it.

She places a new bandage over the laceration, mindful not to press too hard as she sets it. Before she turns away, Echo catches her wrist, startling her at the unexpected move.

"Thank you." She says it with such sincerity, her dark eyes large with gratitude and deep voice, steady.

Clarke's not sure how to respond, but somehow manages a meek nod and a murmured _of course_.

"We've been washing it twice a day, like you said."

She tries very hard not to roll her eyes, but it's definitely a struggle, opting for an irritated sigh instead. Echo, on the other hand, has no qualms with letting Bellamy know how overbearing he's acting with a raise of her brow and smirk that says _stop, you're embarrassing yourself_.

Clarke turns back up to him, barely able to meet his gaze. "That's good," she stiffly placates. "It looks good. She should be fine in a few days."

Echo's thumb caresses the delicate skin on the back of Clarke's hand, giving her one last appreciative smile before releasing her. And honestly, she doesn't think she can even begin to unpack all the complex emotions that one touch evokes. All she knows is her stomach is in knots, and the hairs on her arm are standing on end.

"Is she?"

Clarke blinks away her distracted, fuzzy state, returning her attention to Bellamy. With an impatient huff, he crouches down beside them, grim and serious. "With Echo back, and the eye still operational, she's in more danger than ever before."

She does roll her eyes at that, licking her lips as she tries to hold her tongue. They've already had this discussion. At least Echo has the wherewithal to try and stop him with a quiet _Bellamy_.

But he continues to push. "Clarke, the longer we stay here, the more dangerous it becomes."

And damn, does she ever _look_ at him, since only a few days before she'd been trying to explain that very same thing to him. Only now, their situations are reversed. "I've already told you, I can't go."

"Clarke-" The way he says it, like she's the naïve and unreasonable one, finally sets her off.

"NO." The silence that follows is heavy between the three of them, dripping with tension, but she doesn't care. From the moment of his return everything has be wrong, and it's unsettling to finally have him back, only for him to still be on that damn ring.

"I _cannot_ leave," she stresses firmly, making sure he understands that no matter what he says, it's not happening. "Your sister still has Madi, and there is no way I am going without her."

He at least has the decency to look contrite. How could he, the man who'd been willing to risk all their lives to save just a handful from enslavement, ever expect her to leave Madi behind?

"I know," he starts out slowly, trying again to reach her. Not to bridge the yawning gap that they both feel between them, but to convince her to fall in line. And it pisses her off even more. "I know she's important to you. But she chose to go with Octavia."

"To protect _me_ ," she snaps, furious that he would try to place responsibility on a little girl instead of where it really belongs, _Bloodreina_. "If you need to go, then go. But for now, I'm staying here."

She rocks back on her knees, finding her feet and standing swiftly. She needs to be out of this tent _now_ , because as angry as she is, she's afraid she might give it all away - her loneliness, her regrets, the hurt she knows she has no right to feel, though it continues to steal her breath away every time she catches him with Echo.

She stops quick before ducking under the flap, unable to help herself. "And maybe before you leave, you should think about Monty and Harper, who are still here. Raven, who's still with Eligius, and Murphy and Emori who are still god knows where."

She sees her words land, and knows it had the exact effect she wanted - to hurt him. And she hates it.

He doesn't look at her, almost like he can't bring himself to. _Well, at least we have that in common now_. "You think I've forgotten about them?" His voice is low, rough and offended, and she can hear the simmering anger there, just barely restrained behind this new Bellamy. She feels the pull of it, of him, of who he used to be. She doesn't think she's yearned for anything quite so much as the easy, unspoken comfort they once shared.

But it's gone now, along with the people they were. "I think you're trying not to remember them." And it's a ridiculous thing to say before she even says it. The seven of them being the driving force behind all his decision making. But she's not talking about them - not really. And she hates how obvious that is.

She leaves before he can respond, the hot sun beating down on her relentlessly as she finally escapes.

* * *

She eyes the rations suspiciously in her hand, brown and hard and unappealing, just like this desert. She longs for home, for the safety and peace it offered her for six years. With her eyes drifting shut, she allows her memories to pull her under - sunlight reaching through green canopies, cool, fresh water lapping around her as she bathed, fruits of every color and... the sound of happy laughter.

"I know it's not the most appetizing thing, but it's not nearly as awful as algae soup."

Clarke startles at the voice, inhaling sharply, short hair flying into her face as she whips around. Noticing her surprise, Echo hesitates before taking a step back. "I'm sorry."

Clarke shakes her head, pushing away her shock, lips struggling up into a tight smile that she hopes looks friendly enough. "It's fine."

Still seems unsure, but presses forward nonetheless, eyeing the metal debris Clarke is currently using as a bench. "Can I join you?"

The polite thing to do would be to say yes. And except for past transgressions, which she forgave years ago, Clarke has no valid reason to refuse her. But the drop in her stomach every time her eyes land on Echo has nothing to do with things that have happened in the past and she knows it. So she nods, if only to prove herself wrong.

They sit in silence for a time, Clarke wondering if she's supposed to say something - if she _should_ say something.

"You miss her. Madi," she clarifies when Clarke doesn't reply.

At the mention of her name, all Clarke can do is swallow around the pain, trying not to think about these last few nights without her, without hearing her heavy breathing, and her snuffling, sleepy noises that Clarke never realized she'd grown so accustomed to - that she loved so much.

"Yes," she answers quietly, determined to keep her emotions in check. But then Echo's next words prove that she's only lying to herself if she thinks that's possible where Madi is concerned.

"I saw her today."

It's a shock to her system, her entire demeanor shifting. Her eyes flash to Echo as she sits up straight, alert and desperate to hear more. "Is- Is she ok? Is she-"

"She's fine," Echo reassures, placing a soothing hand on Clarke's shoulder. "She looked good. Healthy."

Her mouth opens to ask questions, so many questions, but nothing comes out as her mind reels and her heart beats a rapid tattoo against her chest. Echo gives a kind and understanding smile, easing the building storm within her.

"She's training," she continues tentatively, like she's uncertain if she should, worriedly taking in Clarke's visceral reaction. "I wasn't able to speak to her, but she seems to be enjoying it."

Clarke holds back a scoff. Mai had enjoyed training when she was younger, even teaching Clarke a few things, but she'd grown out of it the older she became, forcing the girl to sit and listen as Clarke explained how to use the various weapons in their arsenal. She assumes this renewed enjoyment has every thing to do with Bloodreina.

"But I think she misses you." They're such simple words, quiet and unassuming, but the effect they have on her.

A small cry escapes before she can stop it, heart twisting painfully as her eyes brim with tears. She presses her fingers hard to her quivering lips, trying to regains some semblance of control and absolutely failing.

Warmth spreads down the path of Echo's hand on her back, and Clarke leans into it, letting herself be comforted for the second time in six years. The memory of Bellamy's strong hand gently stroking her back inside the holding cell is vivid, and it blurs with the solid feel of Echo's now.

It's... confusing, but nice as she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"She'll be ok." Clarke's water gaze find Echo's tender one, nodding gratefully. "She's strong. Like her mother."

Clarke chokes out a laugh, hurriedly wiping away at the tear tracks marking her face. "What were you doing down there?" she asks with a sniff. "Octavia hasn't banished you again, I'm assuming."

Echo shrugs, eyes rolling indifferently. While Clarke's not entirely certain what happened between Echo and the Eligius crew, she gets the feeling that this entire situation has become far more complicated. even still, taking the threat of Octavia so lightly is a mistake she doesn't want to see Echo make. Octavia had always been capable of anything, just as they all have, but now it's like her entire morality has shifted on its axis, making Bloodreina the most dangerous one of them all.

"I think Octavia has new plans for me."

Clarke wants to take her hand, circle her fingers around her arm so that she'll understand the seriousness of it all. _Oh god, I sound like Bellamy_. But all of that feels too forward, so instead she catches her eye, trying to convey the importance of what she says through her expression.

"Please don't underestimate Octavia," Clarke pleads. "There aren't many people more dangerous than the ones who think they're doing what has to be done. She'll do whatever's necessary to achieve her ends."

Echo's lips curl into a tiny smirk, not quite laughing at her, but reminding Clarke that the former spy is well aware of what people in power are capable of, and that in fact, both of them having been in similar positions before. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Clarke believes it, has seen Echo in action. But it's been a long six years, and she can also see that Echo is just as changed as any of them.

"Something Bellamy's forgotten."

The blood in her veins freezes, and she sits unmoving before quickly composing herself. She lifts her chin, and sets her face to that of something colder. "Right."

It's quiet between them again, the space becoming uncomfortable, and Clarke knows it's her fault. Then Echo says something Clarke never would've expected to come out of her mouth. "He misses you, too."

She raises a brow and works her jaw before she can say anything. "Well, I'm right here," she replies, a little mean, a little bitter, and with so much hurt, if it wasn't obvious to Echo before, it is now.

She knows this is probably an awful idea before she even commits to it, but she desperately needs someone to talk to, her mother still a prisoner of Diyoza, and her relationship with what's left of her friends is more distant and fractured than it's ever been. But if Echo's willing to listen, well, then.

"I don't know how to talk to him anymore." It makes her sound small and unsure, but it's a heartfelt confession that she's hoping the other woman can understand without judgement or jealousy.

Echo opens her mouth to reply, but stays silent, any perfect thoughts, too complicated to give in any kind of rush. Clarke can see her mind working, and she waits on the edge. "This is difficult for him, too," she says tactfully. "Not just finding you again, but all of it. But you can't give up on each other. Both of you deserve better."

It leaves her spinning, conflicted over whether or not any of them deserve better. They are what they are - killers - survivors. But maybe, she thinks, they can deserve each other, and that would be enough for her. She feels slightly remorseful for not considering Echo in this mess of a situation. "What about you? What do you deserve?"

Echo huffs, offering up a small, wry smile. "Whatever Octavia has coming for me, I'm sure."

She doesn't know this Echo, not yet anyway, but she does know that's the last thing she wants for her. "I don't believe that."

* * *

She jolts awake, a lingering malice hanging over her that she can't quite comprehend with her sleep addled brain. _A nightmare probably_. It's best that she can't remember it, life is already nightmarish enough. Pushing up on her arms, she notices the dampness of her shirt and bedding, tracks of sweat sliding down the back of her neck and forehead, strands of her hair sticking to it. The humidity in her tent makes it a struggle to breathe, thick and  muggy as it is. There's no way she's sleeping like this.

She allows her eyes a look of Madi's empty bedroll only once as she rolls up her own, turning away quickly before her unhappy thoughts can get the better of her.

The air outside is still unbearably hot, but at least it's fresh, with a dry breeze every now and again. She wipes at the perspiration already rebuilding around her neck, scanning the grounds for a spot not already occupied by Octavia's gladiator cult.

It doesn't surprise her that there are so many up here. After the hell they obviously went through, she wouldn't want to stay inside that bunker either. But their infectious haze of paranoia is unnerving in the calm of night, and the last place she wants to be is around any of them. Bedroll under her arm, she decides to try the outskirts of camp.

The quiet is welcoming the further out she ventures, her body relaxing in this more familiar setting of silence. She spies a group of secluded ruins, the large gaps in the wall open enough to allow a breeze, and the roof above solid enough to protect against the unpredictable weather.

The abandoned space within is still except for the sand that blows across the ground. The tall walls and murky light hiding dark corners she'd rather not explore. It's not inviting in the least, but it's still better than her sweltering tent and a grounder cult.

She searches for a place to lay her bedding, eyeing the floor against the wall. That's when she sees it at her feet. An arm, maybe? It's painted blue in the hazy light, the rest of the body it's attached to hidden in the shadows.

"Clarke?" The voice is slurred with sleep and wavering in bewilderment. But even still, she recognizes the smooth, velvet tone of Echo.

A silent gasp escapes her, face burning in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here." She takes a hurried step back, about to escape as fast as she can-

" _Wait_." Echo grabs for her wrist, long fingers clasping tight around her, holding her in place. Her first reflex is to yank her arm away, almost does in her initial shock, but then Echo leans closer, her skin glowing, finally illuminating her clear face. She looks beautiful bathed in moonlight, so eager and wanting - hopeful. _But for what?_

A quiet, sniffly inhale sounds from beside the wall, Clarke following the noise to Bellamy. Eyes adjusting to the dark, she watches him, his hand resting low on his stomach, rising and falling evenly in his sleep. His face is soft and peaceful - boyish again, except for the beard. She aches at the sight, feeling wistful and needy and so profoundly _alone_.

Echo loosens her hold, Clarke's hand beginning to fall away. She sucks in a panicky breath, not wanting to leave - not wanting to go back to the isolation she's somehow found herself in, despite being surrounded again by the people she loves. But then Echo catches her fingers before she slips entirely out of her hold, a firm but gentle grip Clarke can break free from if she chooses.

"Stay." It's a pleading murmur, barely a sound, yet it stirs something inside her, enticing her to give in. And when the pressure of Echo's fingers are so warm around her own, and promising of more, it's almost no choice at all.

They lie facing each other, close but not touching, breaths whispering around each other. A happy smile lightens Echo's face, and Clarke feels a calm wash over her that she hasn't felt since before Eligius showed up, like a weight is finally gone, even if only for the moment.

Echo raises her hand, fingers combing through her hair and catching in Clarke's messy waves, making them both snort with quiet laughter. She tucks the short strands behind her ear, and Clarke tries not to sigh, but it's just too tender, and she's just too touch starved. A snapping current trails behind Echo's fingers as they drift over Clarke's shoulder and down her bare arm, the caress so light she can't help but let her eyes flutter closed, drowning in her sudden exhaustion. Echo's touch continues to dance around Clarke's hand until she turns it over, allowing her to interlace their fingers.

"Goodnight, Clarke."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the darkness, she wakes without her normal fatigue, feeling more rested than she has in days. And though she knows she’ll have to leave soon, she hesitates to move, delaying her return to the real world. She’d much rather stay here, with the smooth skin of Echo’s forehead against the tip of her nose, tendrils of her hair tickling Clarke’s face. It’s peaceful. Just like home. _What would it have been like to have this, too, for six years?_

Her lips twitch at the heavy hand on her hip, thumb grazing over the hem of her shirt until it finds its way beneath, sending a wave of heat down her spine. But then her heart suddenly seizes, her breath catching painfully when she realizes the hand on her is too big to be Echo’s.

She opens her eyes tentatively, wary of Bellamy’s reaction to her presence. Not that she should be with the way he’s touching her, but... what if he’s still asleep, what if he thinks she’s Echo, what if—

He’s definitely not asleep, the one side of his face that she can see over Echo’s head shows that he’s awake and well aware of who he’s touching and how he’s touching her. He ceases his movement, thumb set lightly on her skin. She swallows hard, a sharp hunger suspended between them, and she knows he feels it too when his nose flares, thick fingers contracting around her.

A hushed inhale comes from just beneath her, Echo stretching awake and blinking up at her with bleary eyes, a languid smile spread across her face. “Good morning.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to the woman who just woke plastered against you, and whom you desperately want to kiss the sleepy smirk off of, while still having your entire body overheated by the slightest touch of her boyfriend, whom you may just be a little bit in love with?

Unaware of Clarke’s spiraling thoughts, Echo shifts beneath Bellamy’s arm to face him, his hand falling from Clarke’s hip to Echo’s, the loss of contact a stinging sort of pain.

“And to you.” Bellamy doesn’t respond to her either, not that he really has the chance to before Echo is pressing into him, lips catching his in, from what she can tell behind them, is a messy, drowsy kiss.

She’s too dazed to feel hurt, her brain unable to process what exactly is happening until Echo rolls them over, straddling Bellamy’s thighs with a grin against his lips. Clarke is unmoving, staring at them like she expects to disappear altogether.

Bellamy’s eyes flash open, veering directly at her, like he’s just remembered her presence. It’s what finally shakes her out of her paralysis, quickly tucking in her legs to push herself up. She only makes it as far as her knees before a hand is slapping around her arm, fingers bruising. She’d find this common occurrence funny if she didn’t feel like her heart was bleeding in her chest.

“Where are you going?” Echo rushes out, as if she’s actually baffled about why Clarke would be leaving.

She tries for a scoff, but it comes out more like a sob, hating herself for how weak it makes her sound.

Bellamy looks between the two, just as bewildered and uncomfortable by what’s happening. “Echo.”

Jerking her arm, Clarke attempts to free herself from Echo’s solid grasp.

“Please don’t go,” Echo begs fervently. She slips from Bellamy’s lap, kneeling up beside Clarke, their locked eyes heated with want and, on her end at least, hurt. Echo loosens her hold, just the barest pressure of her fingertips remaining, her thumb caressing the red marks she’s left on her pale skin. Bowing forward, her lips skim the hot blush of Clarke’s cheek, making her release slow breath, eyes sliding shut.

“When’s the last time you were kissed?” Echo asks, nosing at Clarke’s jaw, compelling her to angle her head just so. She kisses Clarke’s neck, featherlight before gliding up to the sensitive skin in front of her ear, baby fine hairs tickling with Echo’s warm breath.

“Please.” Clarke’s not sure whether it’s a plea for her to continue or to stop, but it’s like her entire body is hyper aware of Echo’s lips, frozen in place as her mind follows their trail.

Echo’s hand cradles the opposite side of her face, fingers stroking her jaw.

“Do you miss it?” She asks, leaving another, impossibly soft peck on her cheek. Clarke’s hand takes hold of Echo’s arm, needing to ground herself somehow before she loses all sense. But it’s too late. She turns her head, only for Echo to lean forward and capture Clarke’s lips with her own.

As kisses go, it’s tame, an easy press of lips with soft, heady tugs, that after six years is incredibly arousing. But reality soon sets in through her clouded thoughts. “I can’t,” she trembles with a whisper.

She’s aware of how desperate she is for affection, what she’d give to let this all continue just so she can forget her loneliness for a short time. But she also knows it’ll end, and she’ll still be the one standing off to the side, watching as they comfort and hold each other. And she’s afraid that, of all the things she’s had to endure on this planet, that might just be the thing to finally break her.

Echo raises her chin, eyes steady on her face. “You saved my life many times over—“

“Is that what this is?” she demands, voice shaking. “A thank you?”

“No,” Echo assures, firm and leaving no room for argument. Then she smiles, both sad and bright at the same time. “I’m in awe of you. The things your capable of. The things you’ve given. You deserve everything you want.” Clarke blinks, wet lashes sticking together and mouth agape as she’s stunned into silence. “And I want to see you get them.”

Somehow, without her noticing, they’ve returned to the floor. So it’s not a far reach when Echo stretches out Clarke’s arm, guiding her hand high on Bellamy’s thigh, his muscles bunching under her touch. His pants are thick, probably to keep him warm while living in the cold of space, but even so, she can feel the solidness of him - the strength of him. They take each other in, both hesitant and self-conscious. He swallows nervously, and she watches the bob of his Adam’s apple, a flame sparking low in her belly before licking up her body and engulfing her completely.

Echo’s hand falls to Clarke’s neck, thumb tracing the hollow at the base of her throat. “I would also prefer to be involved i—“ Before she can say anything else Clarke is on her, free hand tangling in her long hair, and lips claiming hers. She kisses hard and reckless, demanding too much, too fast, leaving Echo stunned. But she catches on quick, teeth nipping sharply at Clarke’s lip before soothing it with her tongue, drawing in the pink flesh and sucking lightly.

Clarke barely registers Bellamy’s grunt as her nails dig into his thigh, squeezing for all she’s worth. She can’t keep hold for long though, with Echo guiding her down onto her bedroll. Their kiss breaks with a wet smack, a grin breaking out across Echo’s face as she pulls her tank top over her head. Clarke rushes to do the same, back arching off the ground as she crosses her arms and lifts the hem, followed quickly by her bra. She practically drinks in the sight of Echo’s perky tits and lean body, marred only by the white bandage across her side. A reminder of the spy’s brush with danger, and her current shaky standing with Octavia.

“Well,” Echo says with a tick of her brow, “I knew you were hiding an amazing chest under there.” Clarke blushes, watching Bellamy come up behind her, his own shirt having disappeared revealing smooth, tan skin similar to Echo’s. His wide shoulders and thick arms perfectly outline her slender frame as she rests back against him, humming softly at the feel of his skin on hers, like she’d been waiting for his familiar presence.

Clarke swallows the pang of jealously at the comfortable intimacy they share - knowing glances and silent gestures she doesn’t understand. And while a part of her wishes things had turned out differently, she can never regret her time with Madi, no matter what she feels she may have missed out on. Besides, things are developing very well between the three of them, she thinks.

Bellamy sets his hands on Echo’s slim hips, lips on her neck and gaze on Clarke as he eyes her naked torso with lust. “Learn your dirty talk, Echo. They’re tits.”

She responds with a roll of her eyes, only sparing him a heated look as he moves away from her. Her attention soon returns to Clarke. “It doesn’t matter what you call them, they’re still amazing.” She traces her knuckles across Clarke’s collar bone, looping around her shoulder and back down her chest, circling her navel before smoothing the flat of her hand up to palm her breast. The generous flesh spill out as Echo kneads it, and she hums out a small, contented noise at the weight of it.

Clarke reaches up to return the favor, Echo’s smaller breast fitting perfectly in hand making them both smile. Echo tweaks her nipple with a lascivious grin and Clarke does the same. But then she’s bending down, silken lips soothing while her fingers pinch. The combination has Clarke closing her eyes, her earlier tension draining away as she pets lazily down Echo’s hair. An inhale of surprise escapes her when Echo snakes out her tongue, lashing at the sensitive, peaked flesh before finally sucking it between her lips. Clarke swears she can feel the pull of it all the way down to her waiting clit, each suckle creating a near painful link where the bundle of nerves throbs for relief.

Clarke’s eyes drift open to see Bellamy between her legs, hands sliding firmly down her thighs, just enjoying the sight of the two of them. She reaches over Echo’s head, liftingher curtain of hair, and gathering it against the back of her neck to give him an unobstructed view of Echo’s mouth on her.

He squeezes her hips, choking on a groan before fanning a hand low on her stomach, the heel of it so close to where she needs him. He presses it down, just shy of too hard, and she wiggles her hips trying to maneuver him where her flesh is begging for such rough treatment. His smirk is hot - knowing, and she grunts in frustration before suddenly gasping at the scrape of Echo’s teeth.

Bellamy’s fingers curl into her waistband, tugging for her attention. “This okay?”

She nods eagerly, not caring about the smug chuckle it elicits from him, she just wants his hands on her.

Echo must read her thoughts, coming up to nuzzle her forehead against her temple. “He has nice hands. You’re going to enjoy them.”

Bellamy huffs, corners of his eyes crinkling adorably with a shy smile as he pulls off her pants. “Way to raise her expectations.” His modesty is out of place with what they’re currently doing, but that just makes it all the cuter, her heart fluttering for a quick minute.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy myself,” she says, shuddering when Bellamy kisses her knee, hands returning to her, now naked, legs.

“Yeah?” He asks, brown eyes mischievous as he looks up through his lashes, beard tickling her skin. “You have a thing for my hands, princess?”

She snorts at the nickname, feeling Echo’s questioning gaze on them. But she doesn’t have time to think about it, his large, magnificent hand cupping her over her panties, thumb offering the barest of pressure on her clit. The pads of his fingers begin tracing the shape of her, trailing across her lips and over her slit, fingers coming away damp, while her soaked panties stick to her. Then he presses up fast against her center, thumb bearing down hard on her swollen nub. She releases a sharp gasp, body jerking.

“I’d say she does,” she hears Echo from far away.

She’s able to focus enough to see Bellamy lean forward, continuing to work her as he seeks out Echo’s lips for a passionate kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth without hesitation, both of them hovering above her. The salacious display, along with the vigorous, unrelenting grind of Bellamy’s thumb on her clit, sends her careening into her orgasm, surprising even her.

Through the veil of pleasure she feels Bellamy nosing at her ear, pecking sweetly around the shell, chuckling. “Damn, Clarke. We haven’t even gotten your underwear off yet.”

She blows out a deep breath, pushing her hair back from her face. “It’s been six years since I’ve done this with anyone. What do you want from me?”

“Or, maybe I’m just that talented after all.”

“No, definitely not that,” Echo replies with a mock frown.

Bellamy cocks his head. “Yeah?” There’s a hint of playfulness, but also something else, something Clarke can’t quite place, but anticipation coils in her belly. Echo sees it too, her excitement for his reaction unmistakable as she swallows thickly, chest heaving, making Clarke all the more nervously curious.

Bellamy reaches out, fingers wrapping around Echo’s chin, thumb rubbing along her bottom lip as he considers her carefully. The moment has a strangely heightened uneasiness about it. But Echo releases a faint, happy noise that does things to Clarke, biting her lip to keep from repeating it herself.

Which is why it comes as a shock when, after Echo takes Bellamy’s thumb between her lips, he immediately presses it down hard on her tongue, Echo grunting quietly as her mouth is forced open. The hold Bellamy has on her is punishing, surely leaving marks as he leads her forward, Echo following obediently.

Clarke gapes at the image in front of her, watching with a dark fascination at a side of Bellamy she’s never seen before, his set jaw and callous eyes demanding compliance. It’s as alarming as it is thrilling, and a memory begins to form of a different time, yet of a very similar Bellamy.

Delinquent Bellamy.

The Bellamy who challenged her at every turn with a stony expression and heated, bitter looks. The thought of that Bellamy here now, looking like he does, with the confidence that only comes with age, along with their shared history and implicit trust that goes along with it, has her entire body trembling with want.

He arranges Echo in front of him, facing Clarke, neither of them really seeing her as they remove the rest of their clothes. Bellamy bites at the back of Echo’s neck before mouthing at the delicate flesh, Echo’s only reaction a hiss followed by a needy moan. She’s pliant under his rough handling, taking anything he gives with a docility that has Clarke’s head spinning. They make an erotic picture kneeling between her legs, her eyes wide as she pants, fingers sneaking past the band of her panties to roll over her clit, unable to help herself.

Maneuvering Echo down on all fours, Bellamy grips the crook of her neck, giving no warning before he enters her. The quiet whimper Echo releases, so unlike the cold Azgeda spy Clarke once knew, has her lifting her head to soothe her with a kiss. But their lips are out of synch, noses bumping with each of Bellamy’s steady thrusts. So they press foreheads instead, their position creating a kind of intimacy that blooms and warms deep within her chest.

With her hands set gently at the dip of Echo’s waist, her fingers brush up against Bellamy’s clinging to Echo’s hips, and she hears the _whoosh_ of his breath leave his lungs, hips faltering before suddenly snapping faster. Her pussy flutters, her own hips rocking in time with the obscenely wet sound of Bellamy’s cock driving into Echo’s cunt.

Fingers tickle against her belly, her muscles twitching at the sensation. She doesn’t even have time to understand it before a piercing slap cracks around them, Echo’s yelp sharp in her ear. The confusion doesn’t last for long, Bellamy’s movement halting to snatch Echo’s hand, their fingers interlaced as he plants it back on the floor beside Clarke’s head.

“Sneaky girl,” Bellamy rasps harshly into Echo’s ear, the sound of it making Clarke’s stomach flip, swallowing a moan. Echo whines apologetically. “Did I tell you, you could touch yourself?”

She doesn’t respond, and by the look of her glazed over eyes, Clarke wonders if she even can. But then Bellamy pinches her nipple, and she shakes her head earnestly.

“No. Did I tell you, you could touch Clarke?” Another shake.

The entire scene should make her squirm, but instead, the more she sees the more lightheaded she becomes, intoxicated by them and what they’re sharing.

The anticipation swells, none of them moving, the stillness of the room disturbed only by the sounds of heavy breathing. In the quiet, Bellamy searches Clarke’s face for any sign of discomfort, but she already knows there’s none to find.

His expression hardens once again. “Ask me,” he husks, commanding.

She considers arguing, a twisted part of her curious to see just what he’ll do if she challenges him. But she thinks better of it. They’ll have time for that later.

With the most defiant look that she can muster, because she’s not gonna make it _obvious_ that she wants to give in with every fiber of her being, she submits. “Can I touch her?”

His brows raise high, like she’s missing something. “Please.”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “Can I touch her, _please_?”

Leaving a firm kiss behind Echo’s shoulder, Bellamy backs away, Clarke taking that as her cue and carefully rolling Echo beneath her, smiling down into a kiss.

It’s messy, and wet, and invigorating. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’s craved after six years. Rising again, she positions Echo how she wants, just as Bellamy had, right leg hooked around Clarke’s left thigh, then Clarke mirroring the position with her own. And just like with Bellamy, Echo offers no resistance. She lets herself indulge in the feel of control, knees squeezing at the sight of Echo’s jaw going slack when Clarke finally settles her full weight atop her. Then she rolls her hips experimentally, their cunts brushing lightly, both of them releasing a soft sigh.

Her heart thrums faster as she begins to move, to find what works, grinding down with just the right amount of pressure before letting up, easing into an gentle rock that drives Echo crazy. The fabric of her panties dulls the sensation, but it’s good, she wants to see Echo get there first, just the thought of the heady image, thrilling.

Bellamy seems to understand her struggle, watching them with patience, palm fisting the head of his cock leisurely. “Is she fucking you good, baby?” Echo opens her mouth wide but stays silent, any words she tries to find, catching in her throat.

Clarke nearly jumps out of her skin when Bellamy presses up behind her, focused as she is on Echo. The planes of his chest are solid and slick on her back, and she bites her lip to keep from groaning at his warmth.

“Don’t stop,” he orders, when Clarke falters in her movements. His hands envelop her waist, chin hooking over her shoulder as he studies them, beard scratching the sensitive skin of her neck. She feels his _hmmph_ against her back, his chest reverberating with it, and he reaches around her, grasping the back of Echo’s right thigh to push it up higher, securing it in place with a firm hold. Clarke has to shift closer to compensate, but the new position unlocks a whole different set of sensations. Echo lets out shrill noise that sounds like an _oh_ , chest pushing out as she arches her back, nails sinking into Clarke’s calf.

“You gotta ride her hard,” Bellamy instructs. “Gotta be a little mean.”

She nods furiously, dizzy from it all, experiencing so much in so short a time after years of being deprived, and it’s all starting to come to a head, building up into something explosive.

He kisses the spot where her shoulder meets her neck, pressing tight behind her while his free hand slides around her belly, controlling more of her movement, his own hips driving her on at a brutal, rigorous pace. She lets out a breathy cry, and feels the twitch of his rigid cock at the small of her back. She whines his name, needing something to hold onto, to keep her focused.

“You got this,” he reassures her, strained and breathless. “You got this, you’re doin’ so good. Fuck, Clarke look at how close she is.”

Truth be told, she doesn’t know Echo well enough like this to know just how close she is, even though she can feel how her body trembles beneath her. But she should know that she can always trust in Bellamy.

Echo suddenly goes rigid with a sharp gasp, her long hair splayed out above her like a crown as she pushes her head back, Clarke desperate to drag her tongue up the curve of her elegant throat. But she’s already falling off the precipice they’d been teetering on, relief sweeping through her in a rush. The last thing she remembers, dropping her head back onto Bellamy’s shoulder.

The world is bright even behind her eyelids, sunlight beaming straight into her face, amazing her that, until now, she hadn’t even noticed that the sun was up. She blinks her eyes open carefully, trying to pull a heavy breath into her lungs, but the arm Bellamy has banded around her middle is constricting.

“You good?” he asks as she lets him continue holding her weight, feeling loose and cozy with the support of his body.

Her eyelids droop, and she smiles, unabashedly happy for the first time in a while. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You?”

Echo releases a smooth laugh, Bellamy squeezing her thigh. “Maybe.”

He scoffs, amused, yet she can hear the strain in it, and she’s reminded that he’s still stiff as a board behind her. But before she can say anything Echo beats her to it.

“So are you two going to fuck in this lifetime, or just continue pussyfooting around each other?”

Clarke’s taken aback by the language, not that she cares, but it’s strange hearing it come from Echo.

“Murphy,” Bellamy sighs, the only explanation he gives, and the only one she needs. “I think maybe we can save that for later—“

“ _NO_.” All three of them are stunned at her vehemence, Clarke’s cheeks flushing hot. “I mean, we have time for that,” she says, attempting to sound casual about just how badly she wants him to fuck her. She turns to catch his eye, blindly palming his cock, trying to wrap her hand around him. It’s an awkward angle though, and instead she satisfies herself with squeezing the head, feeling the stickiness of his precum.

He inhales deep and slow, eyes fluttering as he loosens his hold on her, allowing her the space to turn in his lap and straddle him. He frowns up at her, his expression a mix of concern and desire. “Are you sure? I think you’ve already done a lot today,” he teases.

Her hands slide down the expanse of his chest, skin warm and glistening with sweat in the sunlight. And while she really does feel pleasantly achy and worn, she also refuses to leave this room again without him having been inside her.

“I probably won’t come again,” she admits, head dropping against his, “But I just want to feel you.”

He catches her wrist, ceasing the soft movement of her touch. “Then you should stop that,” he rasps. “And while we’re being honest, this probably isn’t gonna last long.”

Her breath becomes shaky and excited as he loops his fingers through her panties, slipping them down till they hang off her ankle. “I don’t care,” she whispers eagerly.

She can’t help one last swipe of her thumb across his head, smearing the sticky wetness there and hearing him hiss before guiding him inside her. She sucks in a breath, not prepared for this no matter how many years she’s spent thinking of it - dreaming of it. He murmurs a quiet _fuck_ , eyes closed and face tight as he breathes hard into her face.

She gives herself time to adjust to him, hips rocking slow and short. It’s unhurried and intimate, and she feels every ridge and stretch of him within her.

He huffs out her name, so needy, so beautiful, she knows she would’ve loved him forever, even if they hadn’t gotten this chance. Capturing his face, she turns him up to see her - to watch her, his brown eyes melting at the sight of her, and she wonders how two strangers could be so connected, no matter what they share, they are the same.

His gaze roves over her, coming to his own sort of realization, and before she knows it he’s there, his lips pressed reverently against her own. Their first kiss. Then she ruins it by laughing.

“That’s not a good sign,” he says with a tired smile.

She gives another quick kiss, trying to reassure him. “No, it’s just, I was thinking, sex doesn’t usually come before first kisses.”

He chuckles, arm wrapping low around the small of her back, hand gripping her ass, giving him the leverage he needs to thrust up into her, making her gasp. “I guess we’ll just have to make up for it then.” Their next kiss - or series of kisses - are not nearly as innocent, but just as sweet, leaving the taste of him on her tongue.

They move faster, fuck harder, clutching and crying out, but it’s an impossible pace to keep up in their position, already fatigued as they are, both their legs trembling as they work.

With one hand cradling the back of her head, Bellamy lays her down carefully. She bends her legs high, knees bracketing his ribs. And it’s like an untamed Bellamy has been set loose, gentle and soft long since passed as his fingers dig into her waist, his teeth sinking into her skin, using her body to search for his own release.

It doesn’t take him long to find it, Clarke clenching around him while she holds him close. Bellamy groans with the effort, thrusts subsiding until his full weight is on her, panting hot into her ear. She enjoys it while she can, fingers caressing his back, drawing mindless shapes and making him shudder.

He grunts, landing on the floor beside her, eyes still closed as his breathing slows. Then Echo is there, hovering from behind him, kissing him upside down and brushing through the dark curls around his ears.

“I love you,” she utters, Bellamy smiling tiredly up at her, massaging his fingers into the back of her neck and pulling her down for another kiss. Clarke watches them, heart squeezing at the tenderness of their exchange. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Echo leans down to kiss Clarke on the cheek, making her snort with laughter. And for the first time in forever, everything just feels right.

————————

Clarke bounces on her toes while tugging up her pants, chin resting against her chest as she refastens them. Her eyes land on Bellamy, twisting his shirt in his hands until he finds the front, muscled arms pushing through before lifting it over his head.

He catches her staring, a cocky grin she wants to see more of spreading across his face. “See something you like?”

She lifts a brow, her own teasing grin in place. _They’re both such idiots_. But she doesn’t care how ridiculous she is, because they’re happy and together, and maybe, for once, they can stay that way. “I don’t want to hurt you, Bellamy, but I think I might have a thing for Echo.”

His laugh is deep and real, and she doesn’t think she’s ever actually heard it sound like that before. “Yeah, me too.” But all too soon his face is falling, the always familiar worry replacing his mirth. “I’m sorry.”

Clarke blinks, schooling her reaction so as not to show just how worried she suddenly is. “For what?”

He shrugs, trying to find the words. “For everything being so different.”

“Bellamy, that’s not your fault. That’s no one’s fault.”

“No, but I could’ve handled it better.” She understands his apology, even if she thinks it’s unneeded. “I have something for you.” He crouches beside his pack, the zipper hissing sharply while she steps behind him, curiosity getting the better of her while she tries to spy over his stooped shoulders.

She’s made aware that this may not be a happy gift by his sad look of regret when he holds out the folded paper. She takes it warily, terrified.

She recognizes the drawing immediately, her breath hitching at the the image of home. The buildings, flowers, and banners. It’s all there, she even spots the rover. It’s a beautiful likeness, but it’s the simple message at the bottom that has her eyes watering. _I love you_.

She presses her lips together, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s a losing battle. “You kept this from me?”

His eyes flit from the drawing then back to her. “No. Of course not. It’s just... every time we get the chance to talk we’re either arguing, or something happens.” Bellamy shakes his head. “There was just never any good time. Besides, she only handed it off to me yesterday.”

She swallows hard, thumb smoothing across Madi’s message.

“She’s a cute kid,” he admits softly.

“Yeah, she is.”

“I’m sorry for not recognizing how important she is to you. I won’t do that again.”

She nods, comforted by the fact that he understands that no matter what, for her, Madi comes first. But then that familiar, toxic mix of hopelessness and helplessness starts to creep up on her. “What are we going to do, Bellamy?”

He cups her jaw, calloused thumb brushing her cheekbone, and she sighs with the relief that just his presence alone gives her. “We’ll figure something out.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, recognizing her own words. Though how he always seems to remember a conversation from years ago, she’ll never know.

“Together?”

He’s stays quiet for a long beat, not at all the response she was expecting at the familiar word that holds so much meaning for them both. He shrugs. “Plus one.”

She huffs out a laugh, because now not only is she not alone, they’re not alone. “Plus one,” she agrees definitively.


End file.
